Doctor Dom Series Sequence One (Triage | Observation | Diagnosis): A BDSM & Medical Play Series by Tara Crescent Page B
Authors: Tara Crescent
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the family business,” I said, intentionally vague. I didn’t add that the family business was listed on the TSX. “I didn’t. We had a huge fight; I left.”
“Wow,” she said, taking a sip of her tea, staring at me. “For four years?”
I nodded. “I mean, I wasn’t a jerk; I kept in touch; they knew where I was. But I didn’t want the path they wanted for me.”
“So, when did medical school happen?” she asked.
“After. I was twenty four when I went to pre-med; thirty-one when I graduated med school. Then, six years of residency.”
I could see her do the calculations in her head. “How old are you?” she asked directly. “My initial guess seems to be wrong.”
My lips twitched. “Forty-two.”
“You look good for forty-two,” she said, grinning, shamelessly checking me out. I laughed with her.
“Okay,” I said. “Your turn to answer questions.”
“Ask away,” she said, still laughing.
Our waitress appeared at that moment, interrupting our conversation, refilling our tea and taking away the little sheet onto which we’d checked off what we wanted.
Once she’d left, I turned back to Lisa. “Okay, where did you grow up?”
“Here, in Toronto,” she said promptly. “You?”
“I thought I was asking the questions,” I mock-grumbled. “Yup, Toronto as well. Still my turn.”
“Parents? Siblings? Childhood? Fill me in.”
She laughed at me. “That’s like three questions in one, and three detailed questions to boot.”
“Okay. My parents live in Toronto; I see them about once a week. Though right now, they are in Turkey on a month-long vacation. No siblings, more or less happy childhood, incredibly awkward teenage years, then college, then I worked for some design firms, before taking the plunge when I was thirty, and branching out on my own.”
We’d talked about jobs a little last week. That wasn’t what I was interested in. “Incredibly awkward teenage years; elaborate.”
She made a face at me. “I had acne. Horrible, disfiguring acne; I was teased a lot through middle school; it got a bit better in high school, but things only really cleared up when I got to college.”
I reached across the table, took her hands in mine. I’d led a charmed life through my school years, but I knew how brutal kids could be. She took my hand, put it against her cheek for an instant. It was a simple but intimate gesture, and it made my heart beat like a teenager.
Right there, I wanted to blurt out that I really liked her. That she was rapidly becoming important. But there was her submissiveness; that thing that I was deliberately ignoring until the time seemed right. Until we understood where we came from and what we wanted, I couldn’t say anything.
We ate our dumplings and talked about things that weren’t of consequence.
Chapter 12
Lisa:
“Your place or mine?” he asked when we were done; his eyes dark, every pore of him radiating sex appeal. My entire body clenched. He had left me aching with need earlier in my office; he’d stroked my hands all evening as we ate dinner, and I barely tasted the dumplings, though they were delicious. I was overflowing with lust; the heat pooling between my legs, till all I could feel was my pussy, throbbing and impatient and wet.
“Mine?” I asked. He’d been to my place once, last week after dinner, but he hadn’t touched me then; he had surgery scheduled early the following morning; sleep was a necessity. But it was Friday night, and he had a clear schedule the next day and I did too.
We rose; I was trying not to touch him, and he knew it. His eyes were dark; intense. “Be a good girl,” he said softly.
I nodded. Heat had flared in me when he said that; the words a pulsing trigger that opened the floodgates of my pussy. I bit my lips and waited as he came around to open the door of the car for me; to buckle me in, his hands brushing against my breasts as the seat belt clicked in place.
I stayed quiet in the car; in the
“Wow,” she said, taking a sip of her tea, staring at me. “For four years?”
I nodded. “I mean, I wasn’t a jerk; I kept in touch; they knew where I was. But I didn’t want the path they wanted for me.”
“So, when did medical school happen?” she asked.
“After. I was twenty four when I went to pre-med; thirty-one when I graduated med school. Then, six years of residency.”
I could see her do the calculations in her head. “How old are you?” she asked directly. “My initial guess seems to be wrong.”
My lips twitched. “Forty-two.”
“You look good for forty-two,” she said, grinning, shamelessly checking me out. I laughed with her.
“Okay,” I said. “Your turn to answer questions.”
“Ask away,” she said, still laughing.
Our waitress appeared at that moment, interrupting our conversation, refilling our tea and taking away the little sheet onto which we’d checked off what we wanted.
Once she’d left, I turned back to Lisa. “Okay, where did you grow up?”
“Here, in Toronto,” she said promptly. “You?”
“I thought I was asking the questions,” I mock-grumbled. “Yup, Toronto as well. Still my turn.”
“Parents? Siblings? Childhood? Fill me in.”
She laughed at me. “That’s like three questions in one, and three detailed questions to boot.”
“Okay. My parents live in Toronto; I see them about once a week. Though right now, they are in Turkey on a month-long vacation. No siblings, more or less happy childhood, incredibly awkward teenage years, then college, then I worked for some design firms, before taking the plunge when I was thirty, and branching out on my own.”
We’d talked about jobs a little last week. That wasn’t what I was interested in. “Incredibly awkward teenage years; elaborate.”
She made a face at me. “I had acne. Horrible, disfiguring acne; I was teased a lot through middle school; it got a bit better in high school, but things only really cleared up when I got to college.”
I reached across the table, took her hands in mine. I’d led a charmed life through my school years, but I knew how brutal kids could be. She took my hand, put it against her cheek for an instant. It was a simple but intimate gesture, and it made my heart beat like a teenager.
Right there, I wanted to blurt out that I really liked her. That she was rapidly becoming important. But there was her submissiveness; that thing that I was deliberately ignoring until the time seemed right. Until we understood where we came from and what we wanted, I couldn’t say anything.
We ate our dumplings and talked about things that weren’t of consequence.
Chapter 12
Lisa:
“Your place or mine?” he asked when we were done; his eyes dark, every pore of him radiating sex appeal. My entire body clenched. He had left me aching with need earlier in my office; he’d stroked my hands all evening as we ate dinner, and I barely tasted the dumplings, though they were delicious. I was overflowing with lust; the heat pooling between my legs, till all I could feel was my pussy, throbbing and impatient and wet.
“Mine?” I asked. He’d been to my place once, last week after dinner, but he hadn’t touched me then; he had surgery scheduled early the following morning; sleep was a necessity. But it was Friday night, and he had a clear schedule the next day and I did too.
We rose; I was trying not to touch him, and he knew it. His eyes were dark; intense. “Be a good girl,” he said softly.
I nodded. Heat had flared in me when he said that; the words a pulsing trigger that opened the floodgates of my pussy. I bit my lips and waited as he came around to open the door of the car for me; to buckle me in, his hands brushing against my breasts as the seat belt clicked in place.
I stayed quiet in the car; in the
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